


is it cool that i said all that?

by dwoht



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, angsty fluff is kind of their brand i guess, another Tumblr prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:46:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28871040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwoht/pseuds/dwoht
Summary: There’s no real reason why Toni being obnoxious should be the thing to spark this moment, but as naturally as it feels to exhale, she thinks, 'I love you.'She feels it deep in her heart, and it’s an emotional thought as much as it is a logical one. It calms her almost, assures her. Deeper than that, though, Shelby is just scared. She’s scared because she’s never really had real love in her life before, and she’s scared because she doesn’t think she’ll be very good at it.or,tumblr prompt: Who says I love you first, Toni or Shelby? Does it happen on the island or after? In what setting does it happen? Make a mini drabble, pretty please
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Comments: 34
Kudos: 331





	is it cool that i said all that?

The realization comes suddenly, and without warning.

It’s their turn to collect water, which inevitably means it’s their turn to go swimming. Realistically, there should be something really gross about combining those activities, but Shelby just doesn’t have it in her to care.

So, there they are, splashing around, and Toni is climbing up the rocks and doing dives off of the top, and Shelby is really hoping she doesn’t hit her head.

It’s pretty clear that there’s no real art or intention to the dives Toni is doing, at least nothing like what Rachel is capable of, but where Toni lacks in training and actual knowledge of what she’s doing, she makes up for in pure will and spite. She hurls herself off the top with absolutely no fear, and contorts her body as she flies, probably attempting to do some cool twists, but really just waving her arms around until she drops into the water like a rock.

Upon resurfacing, her dripping, grinning head immediately pans around to look for Shelby, and like always, she says, “That one was pretty good, huh?”

“Six,” Shelby says. Toni’s jaw drops in indignation. “Well, it would have been a five, but I was impressed you actually managed to do a full flip that time.”

And then Toni is off ranting and raving about how not only did a full flip, she _also_ kept her toes tucked like Rachel said you’re supposed to, _and_ she actually went head first, and okay, maybe her arms weren’t doing what she intended for them, but it was still her best one, and Shelby has the audacity to give her a _six_?

There’s no real reason why Toni being obnoxious should be the thing to spark this moment, but as naturally as it feels to exhale, she thinks, _I love you._

She feels it deep in her heart, and it’s an emotional thought as much as it is a logical one. It calms her almost, assures her. Deeper than that, though, Shelby is just scared. She’s scared because she’s never really had real love in her life before, and she’s scared because she doesn’t think she’ll be very good at it.

Andrew loved her, and she loved Andrew. Maybe not in the way she was supposed to, but she loved what he offered for her, and he loved who he thought she was. It was a mutual, symbiotic relationship. She loved the way he took suspicions off of her, and he loved the way she looked on his arm.

It was comfortable and familiar, and maybe it wasn’t all that fun, but she was grateful for it nonetheless. And for a long time, Shelby never doubted that was love, because what more could there be?

Well, her parents loved her.

Rather, they loved controlling her. They loved telling her who she should be, and what she should do, and where she should go. They loved seeing her fulfill all of the dreams _they_ had for her, and they loved showing her off to their friends. Shelby loved them because she was supposed to, and because they provided for her.

She never questioned that loving someone out of obligation wasn’t real love, nor did she question whether it was really love if you only loved someone when they were pretending to be someone else.

Beyond that, Shelby loves her siblings with all her heart, unconditionally, because if she doesn’t, who will?

But at the same time, they don't know her. Melody is barely ten, and Shelby can already see a mask going up on her as well. She doesn't know her or Spencer any more than they know her, and is it really love if you're both wearing the smile of someone you're not?

And then there’s Becca.

Becca with her kind eyes, and her warm grin, and the laugh that always flowed out of her like a prayer. Becca, who huddled under covers with her during sleepovers, and hugged her so tight that Shelby started to feel like she could loosen her grip around her cross necklace, and who promised she would never judge her.

If anyone, Shelby thinks Becca is the only person she’s ever loved. In fact, she probably loved Becca more than she loved herself. She probably _still_ does.

Experience wise, love has always been something to be bartered with, or to use as currency, or to withhold and give depending on the day. Love has been something to fear, something to chase, and most of all, something she’s never let herself have.

Shelby doesn’t know if it’s something she even deserves anymore. More importantly, she doesn’t know if she knows how to give it, either.

The truth is, Shelby can’t remember a single time she’s ever even said it to anyone. Maybe statements adjacent, but she’s never looked anyone in the eyes and told them she loved them.

She can still remember the first time Andrew brought it up. They were taking a walk before dinner, holding hands, and Shelby was looking at the stars, and wondering if Andrew would even care if she started talking about the constellations. She looked over to try and gauge his response, and he said it.

“I love you.”

Simple and straightforward, yet it produced maybe the most automatic feeling of dread. Masking it behind a quick, “You too,” she then kissed him hard, and hoped he’d forget about how her response was maybe the literal worst it could have been.

She’s dropped kisses onto the foreheads of her siblings, or tucked them into bed with a bedtime story and a “Love ya,” tossed over her shoulder. She’s smiled at her parents, accepted their one-armed hugs, and responded with “Love you too” as quickly as she possibly could. She’s even answered back to the question, “Do you love me?” with “I do.”

But she’s never said it. Not even to Becca.

With Becca it was just delicate. Shelby always knew that her love for Becca was different than what she labelled as love for everyone else. She knew that not only was it real, it was beyond what she _should_ feel for a friend.

And the way Becca looked at her, the way she held her hand, the way she was just unconditionally there for her… well. Perhaps it was wishful thinking all along, but Shelby always got the sense that the line was blurred for both of them. Crossing it would be much too dangerous, so instead, she stayed far on the safe side.

It’s not like she didn’t try to tell Becca without saying it, though.

During sleepovers, Shelby always made sure Becca had a cup of water on her night stand because she knew how she got thirsty in the middle of the night. She took care to close the curtains tightly, because Becca was always sensitive to the light of the sunrise.

Shelby always walked Becca to the front door after they hung out, and she always paid for Becca’s coffee, and she always remembered her order — cold brew with condensed milk and a splash of half and half.

She carried Becca’s backpack when they walked to first period together, always packed an extra highlighter in her pencil case because Becca was always forgetting hers, and attended every single one of Becca’s soccer games. She made her flash cards for her Spanish homework, read over her English essays without asking, and happily entertained Becca’s weird habit of watching the movie version of every book they had to read for class.

Shelby may not have said it in so many words, but she wrapped up her affection in gifts and acts of kindness, favors, and services. She remembered things that nobody else did, and made sure to offer Becca things nobody else _could_. She hid “I love you” in “I’m proud of you” and “You’re special to me” in “You’re my best friend.”

And she thought that was enough. Actions speak louder than words, right?

After all, in the days following their porch conversation, Becca never yelled at her, never demanded an apology, never told her how it hurt. She never even spoke to her again after that, but what she did said enough.

Shelby just wonders why what _she_ did _wasn’t_.

All of a sudden, she realizes that her fear isn’t because she loves Toni, her fear is because she’s scared she won’t be able to bring herself to be able to say it. And whether it’s self-sabotaging, or denying herself what she doesn’t think she deserves, at the end of the day, it hurts the other person too.

And so, she decides, if Toni says it first, she’ll say it back.

But Toni doesn’t.

Sometimes there are moments when Shelby thinks she might, mostly because they feel like natural moments for _her_ to finally let it go.

Breathed into a kiss under the cover of the moon, whispered into the crook of each other’s necks as they drift off in front of the fire, buried in a laugh as they giggle at what is sure to be a terrible joke, or even just spoken to fill the silence as they watch the sunset or walk along the beach.

Because how could she not love her? Toni is patient, funny, kind, passionate, understanding, and allows Shelby to be herself in a way she wasn’t even sure existed before the island.

Shelby has become so used to being loved for who she isn't that she doesn't know if there's a real person under all those facades. In her old life, she served a purpose. She was a caretaker for her younger siblings, a trophy for her parents, a status symbol for Andrew, a figure for her friends. And that's why they loved her. It was payment and currency in exchange for being whoever they wanted.

She starts to wonder what she’s offering for _Toni_. After almost three days of over-analyzing her own behavior, and thinking about it for about six hours straight, she comes to the conclusion that it’s probably not a lot. For one thing, Toni already _has_ a friend who understands her and loves her for who she is. She has people in her life who let her be herself. She has people she can trust. She has people who take care of her.

And, yeah, it’s not like Toni is out there kissing Martha, but maybe what the two of them are doing is nothing more than fun for her. Maybe she picked Shelby for no deeper reason other than there’s only seven other options, and one of them is her sister.

Maybe she _doesn’t_ love her.

“How can I make myself more…” she searches for the right word, and though it’s definitely not the right one, she lands on, “useful.”

Fatin furrows her eyebrows. “Like, chore-wise? You already do a lot.”

“No, I mean, like in a relationship,” Shelby says. Her eyes widen. “Or a friendship. Well, if you really think about it, a friendship is a relationship. Either way. That.”

For all her inappropriate timing and callous comments, Fatin doesn’t say anything about Shelby’s weird, incessant rambling. She just asks, “Why do you need to be more useful?” She tilts her head to the side. “What does that even _mean_?”

“I don’t know,” Shelby mumbles, because honestly, she was kind of hoping Fatin would clear it all up for her. “Like, your friendship with Dot. You’re her friend because she supports you, and makes you laugh, and —“

“— offered to be my live in muscle?” Fatin says.

“Uh-huh,” Shelby says. “So, like, what do _you_ do for _her_?”

“Are you telling me I’m a useless friend?” Fatin asks.

Her tone is teasing, but Shelby still flushes, and pokes at the sand as she says, “No, of course not, I just —“

“I’m kidding,” Fatin says. She reaches out like she wants to rest her hand on Shelby’s shoulder, but seems to think better of it, and rests it in her lap. “Friendship isn’t measured in usefulness, Shelby.”

“Okay, well let’s say you were someone’s friend so much that you _loved_ them,” Shelby says, emphasizing the word ‘love.’ “They must… offer something for you, right?”

“Maybe,” Fatin says, staring at her like she’s trying to figure out what exactly she’s saying — which, _Same_ , Shelby thinks. “Look, someone I love might do things for me and ‘offer’ something, but that’s not why I love them, it’s just a by-product.”

“A by-product,” Shelby repeats, tongue curling over the word like it’s a curse.

“I love the people I do for who they are, nothing more,” Fatin says. She shrugs. “And I like to think the people who love me do so because of who _I_ am.”

“It’s as simple as that?” Shelby asks.

Fatin nods. “Simple as that.” And then, much to Shelby’s horror, she adds, “If you’re trying to think of reasons why Toni loves you, don’t. There is no reason besides you being who you are.”

A stammered out, ‘I wasn’t’ is on the tip of her tongue, but Fatin is already looking at her like she’s just daring to lie, so she says, “Oh.”

“Are you scared to tell her?” Fatin asks.

Shelby shakes her head. “I’m scared I won’t.” With her fingers in the sand, and her head cast down, she feels like a child when she admits, “I’ve never actually said it before.”

“Ever?” Fatin’s surprise is evident, if the almost comical lift of her eyebrows are any indication.

“Not really,” Shelby says. She opens her mouth to explain, but she wouldn’t even know where to begin. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, you could practice,” Fatin suggests. Shelby just blinks at her. “On me,” she clarifies. She smiles, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’ll go first.” She takes a deep breath, and holds her fist up like she’s clutching an invisible microphone. “Shelby, although this island thing totally fucking sucks, I’m glad we met, because I don’t think we ever would have otherwise. I love having you as a friend, and I love _you_.”

“I love you,” Shelby repeats. It really _is_ simple as that. And suddenly, it’s like it’s the most important thing in the world. “Fatin, I freaking love you.”

“Now, go tell Toni,” Fatin says, nudging her with her shoulder. Her hand catches on the edge of Shelby’s jacket as she rises to stand, stopping her from walking off. “But make sure to save some for yourself.”

Shelby almost laughs, shaking her head. “Some what?”

“Love,” Fatin says.

She closes her eyes, because how is she supposed to save something she never had? It’s easy to love other people, because other people are good and kind like Martha, or patient like Dot, or passionate like Toni, or clever like Leah, or courageous like Rachel.

Shelby is just a shell of sixteen different identities she’s been asked to be. And none of them are very lovable.

As if reading her mind, Fatin says, “It’s never too late to start,” and releases her grip on Shelby’s jacket.

With a thickness in her throat, Shelby wonders if Fatin is talking to herself a little bit, too. So she swallows, and promises, “I’ll try.”

Shelby really does intend to tell Toni right then and there, but as soon as she climbs up onto their spot on the cliff, Toni’s turning around with a smile and saying, “C’mere. I want to talk to you.”

 _Shit_ , is her first response, but she gingerly sets herself next to Toni, and hesitantly reaches out with her right hand. “What’s up?”

“Well, I just —“ she looks down, examining the way their fingers lace together easily, and she’s actually blushing when she says, “I know we haven’t, like, been doing… this for that long. And maybe it’s the island, or the stereotype —“

“What stereotype?” Shelby asks.

Toni stares at her. “You know, with the U-Haul… never mind. Anyway,” she continues, “I know it hasn’t been that long, but I guess this whole situation has made things go kind of quickly for me. And I haven’t wanted to pressure you, because I know this is all new for you, and I don’t want you to think that you have to, like, say it back or anything, but I’ve been thinking, and I really just wanted you to know —“

“I love you, Toni,” Shelby says.

Toni gapes at her. Stammering, she tries to weakly recover with a, “Hey,” she complains. “I was going to say it first.”

Shelby quirks her lower lip. “Oops.” Before Toni can say anything else, she squeezes her hand gently. “I need you to know, I’m not… I’m not perfect. I’m not close to it. I’ve hurt people before. I got scared, and I’m not proud of it.” She shudders. “The details are... not important, but, uh, let’s just say the track record for people who’ve loved me isn’t great.”

“Well, we’re stranded on an island,” Toni teases, “so I’d say that’s accurate.”

Shelby shakes her head. “Toni, I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” she says. She smiles, softly, so faint it’s like it’s not even conscious. “Whatever you’ve done, whoever you’ve been? That doesn’t have to be who you are.”

“I don’t even know who I am,” she says, and it might be one of the most honest things she’s said on the island at all.

“I do,” Toni says, and she pushes past the disbelief littered all over Shelby’s face with, “I know that you care about people, so much. And maybe sometimes you care too much for those who don’t deserve it, and maybe sometimes you care about the wrong ones, but you’re loving, and you’re kind, and you’re optimistic, almost annoyingly so, and you see the best in people, even when it’s not even really there, and most of all?” She reaches out to cup Shelby’s jaw, and Shelby leans into it almost automatically. “Most of all, you’re learning. Nobody’s perfect. Hell, I’m not. But you _want_ to be a better person. And what’s more important than that?”

“I don’t know,” Shelby mumbles.

“We’ve all done bad things,” Toni says, and though Shelby wants to say, _Not like me_ , the pain in Toni’s voice makes her wonder if that’s totally true. “I’ve made mistakes, too. And I’m not proud of them. And they hurt people,” she says, echoing Shelby’s words. “And what kind of hypocrite would I be if I wanted people to see past those things, but I didn’t do the same for others?”

“Everyone has regrets, things they wish they could take back,” Shelby says, trying for a reassuring tone. “And you’re only seventeen, Toni. You’re hardly a finished person.” Toni arches an eyebrow as if to say, _Exactly_. “Oh.”

“I love you, Shelby,” Toni says. She lifts her chin up just slightly, so their eyes meet, and her tone is earnest in an achingly youthful way when she adds, “I love you not just for who you are, but who I know you can be.”

For a second, Shelby allows herself to believe that’s true. “I love you,” she whispers, basking in the setting sun, and “I love you,” she exhales again against Toni’s lips, and “I love you,” she says, heavily, as she pulls away.

Then she turns towards the sky, because after all this, she has to believe that there’s a Heaven, and she has to believe good people get to go there.

 _I loved you, Becca,_ she thinks, blinking up at the horizon. _I’m sorry I never told you. I hope that you knew, and I hope that you’ll forgive me._

Maybe it’s God, or maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but when Toni coaxes her attention back, and says, “I love you,” one more time, there’s a twinkle in her eye she swears is Becca’s, and there’s something in her voice that breathes, _I did, and I do._

**Author's Note:**

> quinnfebrey on tumblr, come chat!


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